Free The Cyclops Conspiracy by David Perry

the side, wrapping him in tight bear hug, pinning his arms, and lifting him into the air. Jason, too surprised to react, hit the far wall between two windows, caving in plaster.
    Jason’s nose and cheek hit first, his arms welded to his side by the bear hug. Hooded Man rammed him into the carpet, pressing his full weight onto Jason. A gloved hand moved to Jason’s neck and squeezed, choking him. Jason struggled, his face reddening. His breaths came faster and weaker. As he struggled, spittle flew from his mouth.
    The attacker made no sound. The in-and-out pulsation of his mask quickened, but otherwise revealed no stress. Jason tried in vain to pry the hand from around his neck. But against the man’s godlikestrength, his attempts were anemic. Jason rammed a fist into the midsection, hoping to release the choke hold. He failed.
    A loud shriek filled Christine’s ears. She realized it was emanating from her own throat as she hurtled through the air. She slammed her shoulder into the side of the cloth-covered head. The man bounced into the wall beside the bed. Christine’s baseball cap dropped over her eyes as she gouged skin beneath the mask. She felt Jason scramble free beneath her.
    The intruder’s arm whipped violently, shedding Christine like a rag doll. She landed in a heap a few feet away. Jason rose up and delivered a trio of punches with alternating fists to the mask Christine had dislodged. The eyeholes were filled with tan skin. The figure, temporarily blinded, was stunned by Jason’s blows. Loud cracks penetrated the air. The intruder rolled away. His hands moved to his face, readjusting the mask.
    “Chrissie! Police!” Jason shouted, launching a side kick. It was blocked by an unyielding forearm, stopping Jason’s foot dead as if it had struck granite.
    The man sprinted toward the door, past Christine and toward freedom. She flinched, thinking he might strike again. Jason jumped over Christine, trying to get at the attacker again.
    Hooded Man grabbed Jason in midleap and flung him through the bedroom door. Jason’s head slammed into the doorframe, bouncing on the floor upon landing. The intruder raced to Jason and stood over him ominously, waiting for him to move. He turned toward Christine, who was retrieving the lamp from the nightstand. She took two steps in his direction.
    The man sprinted down the hall and disappeared down the stairs. Seconds later, Christine heard the front door open. She ran downstairs and looked out. The figure was racing away through Mrs. Liggieri’s yard.
    * * *
    “I’m fine,” Jason persisted.
    The paramedics had tried several times to convince him to get in the ambulance and go to the hospital. “You might have a concussion,” one said. Jason, steadfast, declined. They packed up their gear and helped him downstairs, planting him on the sofa. They told Christine he should not be alone for the next twenty-four hours, and gave her instructions to get him to a doctor as soon as possible. Jason signed a release refusing treatment, scratching his name without looking at the form.
    A police officer waited at the bottom of the stairs, watching silently until the paramedics were gone. He asked Jason a few questions, who answered with his head in his hands.
    “He had a tattoo on his arm,” said Jason.
    “Where on his arm?”
    Jason exposed the inside of his right forearm and pointed to the spot on his own arm without looking up.
    “What did it look like?”
    “Like a squiggly line.”
    “Can you draw it for me?” The man handed the pad to Jason. He took it without looking up and drew the small tattoo.
    The officer left, promising that a detective would follow up in a few days. He said that dusting for fingerprints would not help, since the attacker had worn gloves. “We have several units cruising the neighborhood,” he said.
    * * *
    “Kneel,” Lily commanded. Oliver obeyed and knelt on the thick carpet of her expansive bedroom. “Tell me what happened.”
    He described